hello, stranger
by MadnessIsTheMurderer
Summary: Winry and Edward had been married for four years. Yet one phone call changed her world, and she's finding it hard to survive in a mental hospital. EdxWin. Implied Royai. Dark fic. R&R please.
1. one

Have you ever revealed that one secret that no one wants to show?

Have you found it yet, that one weakness that god created in every being? That one thing that'll bring you to your knees in an instant?

I have. And I regret it.

This world works in such mysterious ways.

One day you could be speaking to someone on the phone, laughing and joking about how much your lives suck, yet you know that, deep down, you'll both be okay as long as you have each other.

But then the next day, you get a call.

They died in a car crash.

And you cry and curse the world, sent into a spiral you swear you'll never be able to get out of. You try to find the reason it happened, try to identify if this was your fault, if some fuckin' God was upset at something you did and decided to take that one person in your life away from you. You scream, you break things, you hit the walls and any person who gets close.

Finally, you close yourself up. You sow yourself together at the funeral, telling yourself over and over not to make a scene, not to embarrass yourself, not to make that person who held you up upset.

But when the funeral is over and all the people file out from the grave, you're left standing there, wondering "where did this all go wrong?"

For a moment you swear you'd give all your riches, all your energy, all your youth and beauty to have them back. For a moment, you'd trade everyone in the world just to have that one person alive again. For a moment, you want to give yourself up, just so they can live, can feel what it feels like to breath, to love someone like you loved them.

You know that everything you did, everything you strive for in life is wasted. You realize that it was all for them, that everything you owned, had, wanted, needed, desired... It was all for them, because of them, part of them.

So you hold his brother, try to comfort him while you can't even find yourself in the rubble of a life you've created and lost. You pick up his pieces, create and replace his heart, tell him you're still there for him. You know that's a lie, but you don't care; anything to keep him as he is, even if you're not.

You're alone now, at home. All around you, things are shattered, just like you know your whole being is. You can feel swollen eyes, feel the pain, feel the loss like a knife, over and over, stabbing deeper with each breath you take in this lonely world.

You can't sleep at night. Constantly, your mind goes back to the times when you were happy with them, when you both laughed, when you relaxed on the swings, played in the beach, went on so many adventures. And then you remember talking to them on the phone, joking and laughing about how much your lives both sucked. You start to cry, remembering how you knew, deep down, that the both of you would be okay as long as they were alive.

It's then that you realize that they aren't coming back, that they won't ever come back. Your heart struggles with the pain as your mind replays the words they used to tell you in the middle of the night.

And you wonder that night if you'll ever be able to hear the words "I love you" without thinking of them.

You see, my name is Winry Rockbell, and I lost someone very dear to me due to a car crash three days ago. None of this feels real, but I know I have to tell someone about how I'm feeling. And if not you, a stranger I hardly know, then who? I can't tell his brother; he'll worry for me. He'll think I'm crazy, he'll want to keep me alive, even though all I want to do is die to be with the other, the one I lost.

Edward Elric was his name. He was short, cocky, arrogant. He was strong, powerful, funny. He was sarcastic, half metal, yet so full of kindness despite the sin he had long ago committed. He died too young, at 25, and left me here with nothing except his brother to keep me alive when the night becomes too dark, when the burden of his death becomes too heavy.

I miss him. I miss his blond hair and the evenings I spent braiding the length of it. I miss his yellow eyes and how easily they saw through all of my well-worded lies. I miss his warm-and-cold hands, how he made sure to only touch me with one and gently ease in the other, the cold metallic hand I constantly teased him about, the one I always fixed.

I wonder if, in his dying moments, he thought about me. I wonder if he even had dying moments, or if it was a DOA. I wonder so many things lately. I wonder so much that it kills me inside often, that I end up tearing at my hair, hitting mirrors, crying and going into a horrible and destructive rage.

His brother – Alphonse – tries so often to help me. He knows how lost I feel. He knows that I can't take this, that I was never meant to take this, that I'll never be able to take this. He knows that the very thing I made Edward promise me before we got married four years ago was that he would never, ever abandon me in this world, that he would never leave me alone without a warning. I know too well, too vividly, how it feels to be left alone without anyone there to protect you, to care for you...

My parents were killed when I was younger, by someone I don't want to name, simply because I don't know his name. He used to go by Scar, but no one knows who he really is. All I know is that he's the reason for all my insecurities, for all my fear of being left alone. And now look. Just when I thought I had finally been freed of my fear, some God decides to take away the one and only release I have in the world. They decide to tear away my sanity, to force me to cry every night, to wreck the photos we used to smile in, to demolish myself from the inside out just so I can forget about all the good times, forget all about the beautiful man who had the ability to make me relax.

I don't think I'll ever be able to forget our moments. I want to – so desperately, so horribly – but I'm scared. If I lose these memories that pain me so badly, will I forget him? You see, stranger, this is the web that I have been thrown into, my feet getting stuck into this sticky webbing that is my insecurities and my doubts, my hands falling through the pitholes known as my inability to be strong, my eyes too blurred from crying to see the way out of it.

The way I see it right now, my demise is coming quickly towards me. The end is near, and I find no hope in my life. I'm scared, and all I want is him...

I want Edward. I want to learn alchemy, I want to perform human transmutation, I want to bring him back. Fuck the rest! Damn it to hell and back, as long as I get Edward here with me again!

Stranger, I have a confession I have to make.

I'm leaving my house. I'm abandoning it like the world did to me, four days ago.

You see, yesterday, I hurt myself badly when I went into a rage. I smashed a mirror with my hands, banging it over and over, and I cut myself deeply. Alphonse... He, you see, over reacted. He does think I'm going crazy, and to be honest, I think I am, too. Without Edward, I'm so lost. I can't find my way out of the web, out of the darkness...

So he's putting me in a ward, throwing me to speacilists who swear they'll be able to cure me of my mental sickness. But I say they can't. They don't understand; this isn't a mental sickness, it's a heart sickness. I'm so lonely... I'm so defeated. I'm so upset, so depressed, so useless right now.

But I have no say. I cried when he told me what he had done, when he told me that Riza and Roy would be over sometime today to take me to the ward.

I'm scared, but deep down, I know this is the only way. Alphonse means a lot to me, since he's the only tie to Edward I have now. If he's upset, I'm upset. And if this is his wishes, then I suppose they're mine, too...

So I'll be leaving you now. But not for long. Trust me, stranger, I'll need to talk again, and when I do, you'll be the one I come calling on. So wait for me.

Wait for me like I'll be waiting for Edward.


	2. two

It's been three days since I've been inside white walls.

It's been seven days since I lost the one I could never live without.

Living without Edward hasn't gotten any easier, even after a week. My heart still cries and I constantly do the same. Every part of my body is longing to be with him, to hold onto him, to grab those comforting metallic limbs I've repaired time and time again. It's so hard, to just try to go on without the one who used to hold me up, even when he was no where to be seen.

To be honest, through all those long years where he and Alphonse were on their quest, the only thing that kept me smiling was the hope that, one day, they'd come by unannounced like they did quite often. I would always wake up in the morning, thinking _he might be here_.

But now I have nothing to think of when I wake in the morning.

I don't even want to anymore.

Yet I do anyways, knowing that Alphonse will come by later in the day to visit me here. He's been coming every day straight since Roy and Riza dropped me off in this ward. Alphonse still speaks to me like usual, still acts like I'm sane. But there's something in him that's broken, and it hurts me so much knowing that, for once, it's something I can't fix. Before, if something was broken or either of the boys weren't running right, I just got out my wrench and began repairing. Yet here I am, useless for him when he's in just as much pain as me.

"Winry..."

I look up. He's here, right now, talking to me about something I clearly wasn't listening to. I was too dazed in my own world, talking to you.

"Yeah?" I ask back to him, his small pink lips curling into a smile. If only you could see him, stranger, you would see half of what I fell in love with. His brother looked so much like Alphonse, yet they acted so differently. You see, Alphonse is relaxed, calm. He won't ever raise his hand against someone unless he's provoked or needs to. Yet Edward... He was a live cannon. If you made one jab at his height, there was no telling how angered he'd get.

I remember standing at our wedding day in my bare feet with my heels beside me, because I didn't want to anger Edward by being taller than him on such a photo-op kind of day.

"Do they treat you well here?" he says quietly, his fingers playing with themselves and his head hung down.

"Yeah," I lie. Because, honestly, they don't. I'm pretty glad I'm normally sane; the workers here treat the crazy people like rag dolls. They'll throw them about, shove them into seats, force pill after pill down their throat with no care of the patient's wishes or well being. Thank God I don't need any pills. Yet.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course." I feel bad lying to him like this, since I feel like I'm disappointing Edward in some unfathomable way, but I know it's better than telling him the truth. He probably picked this ward all on his own, since Edward... Well, Edward isn't around to help him make all these hard decisions.

He sighs a deep sigh, sinking deeper into his seat, his short blond hair lightly falling over his forehead. It's in these times where I see how alike he is to Edward.

… My heart hurts. My brain is paining me, and there's a horrible stinging behind my eyes. I know I'm getting emotional, I know I'm overreacting at everything, I know I'm being too sensitive about all these little things. I know I have to pull myself together and get out quickly so I can take care of Alphonse, my now-best-friend and step-brother.

"I'll get out of here soon, Al," I say slowly, trying so hard not to let my emotions show through. I want to be like Edward right now; he always knew what to do when people got upset. He always knew what to do when things went bad, when the world was turned upside down, when every one and every thing was against you. I'll try to be like him, try to replace him, in a way, in Al's life. I want to comfort Alphonse, I want to be the one he goes to instead of his brother's grave. I hate being here.

I hate not being outside, out there. With him.

He places a hand on my shoulder, and I look up. I know there's tears in my eyes, and tears down my face, falling to my lap, but I can't deny him my gaze. He requested it; I have to acknowledge that.

"Winry, I'll wait for you as long as I have to. I made a promise. So just take your time."

For a moment, I stare at him, unsure of how to respond. He made a promise? He didn't to me, unless I'm so mad that I've forgotten everything important. And then it hits me, and I can't help but allow the onslaught of tears to overwhelm me as Edward's smiling face enters my head, his yellow eyes closed shut in happiness, blond hair blowing in a wind that has been granted to him by my mind. My arms wrap around Al's body, my small arms holding his built body.

A promise was not made to me. A promise was probably made between Alphonse and Edward. I can see that, can see how Edward would say to Al on what would probably be a late evening, 'If anything happens to me, promise me you'll protect Winry.' Maybe it's my idea of Edward, or maybe it's what I hope happens because I don't want to have the guilt of forgetting, but it's what I'm going with. It's what I'll believe, since no one can correct me now.

"You won't have to wait long," I whisper through my sobs. He says nothing else, only holds me back and draws symbols on my back with his fingers, symbols I can identify as alchemical signs.

"You know I'd bring him back if I could, Winry."

And I do know. Alphonse would do anything for his brother. He'd do anything for me. Always.

I nod into him, tightening my grip as I feel my composure loosening, as my self-confidence falls, my sanity crumbles, my hope fails.

Right now, and probably for now on, Alphonse is my world. For now on, he's the one holding me up, the one giving me the strength to take another step forward, even though I've been walking for eternities on end.

There's a knock, and instantly, will I have for living is drained, my energy is spent, my determination knocked and battered around.

Because really, this is only visiting time. And now he has to go, until tomorrow, when he'll be waiting for me at exactly 5:30 in the afternoon.

"I have to go now," he says as he backs away from me. I smile through the tears from my eyes as everything is torn from me again after it's been built up for the third time this week. "I'll be back tomorrow, Winry." He pushes my now-wet hair back behind my ear, kissing my forehead for gently. Usually, I'd push him away, scold him on these actions. Yet right now, I just want every bit of contact he's granting me. I want it all, and then more. I just want to make up for the loss of Edward.

He waves as he leaves the room, and I'm left alone for a few minutes, as usual, while the nurses hit on him or whatever they do in these free moments.

You see, stranger, I think I'm hitting my limit. I think that, maybe, I'm broken now. Everything doesn't really matter when I'm not with Alphonse. I don't care about things when he's not around. When he's around, I feel like my world's not spinning out of control. It's like Edward never died when he's with me, touching me, drawing these symbols on my back like Edward used to, saying things I know I'll never come close to understanding.

God, I just miss him so much...

Stranger, they're coming to bring me to my room now. I'll talk to you again, later, when I have something else to say and rant about.

You know, you're a good listening. I'll come back. So wait for me again.

Wait like Alphonse will for me.


	3. three

It's the marking of a week since I've been trapped by these white walls, eleven days since Edward died.

After that talk with Alphonse, things are slowly becoming easier to bear. I'm trying to be strong, trying to move on. But you know, stranger, it's not easy. Every night I still cringe and think about that phone call that ended my normal life, still think about Edward's golden eyes, his brilliant and blinding smile, his kind heart and warm hands. Such warm hands...

I remember those hands always holding me when I woke up in the middle of the night with a nightmare. I remember cooing words and whispers, always followed by the backhanded insult he'd throw in there to make me smile.

I miss those playful nights.

I miss it all.

I think I just miss him.

I don't expect you to understand all these things I'm going through, though. You may never even graze the surface of all this confusing and conflicting emotions. I don't think you'll ever get it.

And in some way, I envy you for that. I'm happy you won't feel what I do now, glad that you're one of the lucky ones who will never have to cry yourself to sleep every night for the rest of your life, have your heart scream out amongst the pieces for that one person who will never come back.

I still cry. I do so often, and I'm sure I always will. It's so hard, you know, to just try to grow up and forget all about the one I love so much. Even when he and Alphonse were on their adventure to get back to normal, I didn't forget him. I remember always telling myself that he'd come back to me one day, even though I hadn't realized my feelings for him back then.

I desperately hope you won't wait like I did. Imagine, all those extra years I could have spent with him, loving him like I used to... All those years that I've wasted lying to myself.

Don't ever wait like me. You'll never know what'll happen...

I realize that now.

Alphonse visits me again. The worker who escorts me there is one of the nicer ones found here, but I think it's because she has this major crush on him. Somehow, this ticks me off, especially when she starts asking questions about him. I try my best to ignore her and those idiotic fantasies of her being with him, but when her questions get much more personal, I listen and respond.

"How old is he?" she asks.

"24," I answer back, my fists clenching tightly as I think about what her goal is.

She wants to steal him from me. She wants to take the only thing now keeping me alive from me. And somehow, that's an attack on myself, and to me, it's like she wants me to die. Like she's telling me to bugger off and slit my wrists, to leave Alphonse to her for protection.

"Oh! He's only two years older than me!" Her voice is a happy squeal and I can't help but cringe. It takes everything in me not to hit her with something hard and metallic, like a wrench.

"Why did you want to know?"

I don't really care of the answer, really, but I just want to see what her intentions are. And as she responds, I feel my blood boiling, my face heating up and my lips curling into a scowl.

"Because I think I want to be his girlfriend. He's pretty cute..." She laughs, looking over to me, her gray eyes almost mocking, black hair tied back tightly to reveal a huge forehead and nasty looking features.

"He'd never date someone as disgusting as you," I accidentally spit out, though I regret it immediately. I didn't mean for that to come out. My anger... It just took over.

For a moment the nurse looks quite taken aback, but gives me a gentle smile, like she, too, regrets it.

"Well... Maybe I'll see about his brother..."

Edward?

No.

It's then I snap, grabbing her shoulders and pushing her against the wall. What am I doing?

I wonder that for only a moment before proceeding to yell.

"Edward wouldn't ever touch something like you! He's dead, anyways, so he'd-!" I want to continue yelling at her pointless things, but the tears fall from my eyes at the mention of him – at the thought of he with her – and my knees begin to shake. My hands are still tight around her, though, and before I know what's even happening, I'm being pulled away.

"Winry...!" someone's yelling. It takes me a moment to realize it's Alphonse, his hand outstretched to me as he's held back by two men in white clothing. The workers – they always interfere. They always interrupt. They always ruin everything.

"Alphonse..." I call back, though my voice is strangled and defeated. I see him look to me with fear and hope in those eyes, but as I call his name a second time, all emotions fade from his face and he gives up his struggle to get to me.

His mouth moves as he talks to the two men and the nurse who now stands much too close to him. My anger strikes back up as I see her hand on his back, but the arms holding mine prevent me from running and assaulting her for the second time.

I can barely make out what he says, due to my sobbing, but I hear it nonetheless.

"She's getting worse, isn't she?"

I drop my head and allow my two workers to take me to my room. The visit today has been ruined by me, and I realize that I've only hurt him in the process, too.

Stranger, I know you probably think I'm crazy, just like all these other people. I know you probably think I did something so stupid, so selfish... But you don't understand. To me, Edward is still with me, still here, still alive. He's still as much real as I am, as Alphonse is. And for people to be talking about him, about Alphonse, like I'm not even here...

I know it's bad to say, but I've become so possessive of both of them, even if it is nearly impossible to be possessive about the spirit of someone dead. Alphonse is, though I hate to say it, now someone so close to me as my own husband. I would kill for him, I would die for him.

And I don't want anyone taking him from me. Never.

… I think I'm sick. I know I'm ill, I know I'm strange. I just never thought that it was this bad. To think of Alphonse as Edward in a sort of way... Could it be that I'm replacing Edward with his brother? What kind of monster am I...?

It's only a question of time before this escalates into something more, into something drastic and scary.

I don't want that to happen. I don't want to have the memory of Edward be replaced by that of Alphonse. I don't want to be lost, I don't want to be forgotten. I don't want Alphonse to hate me!

I'm in my room now. I'm scared. I'm nervous.

I'm still crying.

Alphonse... Oh God, how can I ever look at him the same way again? How can I face him, knowing that I've hurt him so much without even knowing it?

Stranger, you probably don't understand, but I do. I understand myself far too well, and perhaps you don't...

But I know that I'm going crazy. I know that I'm losing my mind. My thoughts seldom make sense nowadays...

Please. Help me, stranger.

Don't wait anymore.


	4. four

Seventeen days since I've been here, twenty one since Edward's been gone.

It's been quite a while since I've been admitted here. I'm starting to think I'm not going to be getting out for a long time yet. I fear that I'll be here for ever, that I'll never be able to get out and experience all those little things, all the things you can't ever get close to in this place.

God, how much I want to hold a knife and make my own food. I want to use a metal fork, not the plastic ones they hand out. I want to have something more royal than macaroni and cheese.

Alphonse occasionally brings me food, but by the time the searchers have gone through it, it ends up to be nothing more than another pile of mess. Though it is much better than the crap they make here.

Ever since that day I freaked out, he's been more... reserved, I suppose, when he speaks to me. He'll await until I get onto a subject to talk about it, wait until I'm ready to tell him things that are on my mind. He no longer asks questions, and if it weren't for his hand on mine, I would think he was disinterested in me and my wavering excuse of a life.

I've become more hesitant to speak to him, too. But I still talk as animatedly as I did before I was put here, before all this happened, before Edward died. I still speak of my mechanics, of how desperately I want to hold a wrench and feel the oil on my skin, hear the ting of the metal as I hit it. He only smiles to me and says 'soon, soon'. But how soon? When is soon too far? Too close?

Is soon now? Or is soon twenty years from now?

I find his words are slowly losing their comfort. Whatever he says now suddenly has a second meaning, and I always turn to the second, more dark explanation he tries to give. I'm becoming lost, I think, starting to find little hope in everything. Not even his kind hugs with the alchemical designs or the kisses on the forehead – which have now been lowered onto my cheeks – seem to brighten my day like they used to, even though I'm now more aware of everything going on.

I'm starting to fall for Alphonse, I think. Who knew that this was what it would take for me to notice what a great guy he was? Who knew it would take a horrible event, two and a half weeks in a mental hospital, and a sudden break out for me to fall in love for the second time?

He's kind, I notice. But wild, sort of. He gives me this smile, sometimes, that's filled with something animistic and dangerous. It reminds me of Edward, in a way, but I constantly have to remind myself that they're different, that he's dead.

I've admitted to myself that I only love him because he reminds me so much of Edward. I've only just started to see Alphonse as his own being, as his own sort of entity instead of the younger version of his brother. It's hard, but I'm starting to be in love with _Alphonse, _instead of the mini-Edward I want him to be.

"Winry?"

I look up. Alphonse is here right now, just staring at me with a look of concern, his hand grasped onto mine rather tightly, but I don't mind the pressure, the slight tinge of pain; it lets me know I'm still here, still facing him, his being still on mine.

"Yeah?" I smile to him as I speak.

He's beautiful.

He looks at me for a moment, blushes, laughs and looks away. "Why are you looking at me like that?" he questions.

"Like what?"

He gives a halfhearted smile to me, leans forward uncharacteristic, and puts his forehead centimeters from my own.

"You wouldn't be falling for me, would you?" He smiles that dangerous smile that makes my heart race, leaning forward a little more, his lips so close to mine. I'm sure, then, that I have fallen for him. He's not like the quiet, shy Alphonse I knew long ago. He's more inviting, more arrogant, more daring. He's more Edward than Alphonse, and I know I'm replacing him, but I know I need to. I'll go crazy without an Alphonse or an Edward.

I smile, too, closing my eyes.

Take the leap, I tell myself. Just lean in, just do it. But the image of Edward is still there, still so vivid. It still brings those tears to my eyes.

"Why would you say that?" I ask, slightly pushing back.

He moved away, too, leaning back in his seat and shrugging. "'Dunno. Edward would be really pissed if you were falling in love with me, though." He laughs, that smile still able to be seen on his face. "Not like I can blame you; I'm quite the catch."

I laugh then, too, hitting him in the shoulder.

It's then that I realize just how crazy I am.

His face slowly changes, features of Edward popping through the of Alphonse. His eyes widen and they're sudden Edward's, his hair longer and braided, lips thin and smiling. Small features break through, and I'm so startled I have to close my eyes and look down.

He's Alphonse, I tell myself over and over. My knees raise up instintively and I'm rocking on the chair, head between my knees.  
"Winry?" Alphonse asks. I want to look up, because his hand is on my knee, but I don't. I can't stand to look up and see him as Edward. It'll be too much... I'll cry, I'll break down, I'll hit Al and scream and hurt someone. I don't want to look more crazy than I already do.

So I lie.

"I don't feel good, Al."

His hand leaves mine, and the door opens. It closes, then opens moments later.

Someone's cold hand is on my arm, and I'm slowly being pulled out of the room, carefully like a porcelain doll.

Even as I'm walking away, I can't face him. I can't turn around and look at him; I'm too scared of what I'll see.

You probably think I'm just losing it completely, huh? I can't even offer any justification for that, either. I'm committing such a horrible act, I'm doing something that I know I'll never be forgiven for. To be in love with my husband's younger brother?

I'm a monster.

You're probably banishing me to Hell right now. How could I ever just abandon something as great as what Edward and I had? How could I just forget it all?

I don't even know. Please, stranger, give me some answers. I can't do this, and I don't want to do this.

I just want out. I want to be outside! I want to run and run and run, never looking back and never stopping!

I want to leave.

Please, stranger, be my escape. Come, rescue me. You know that I'm not that crazy. You know everything I've never dared to tell anyone else. You know me better than anyone, even Alphonse, even Edward. You need to help me.

Save me.

Please. Don't let me face Alphonse again.


	5. five

Thirty days since I've been here, thirty four without Edward.

It's been a little after a month, and I'm surprised I've been holding on so well. I mean, if I was alone... If I hadn't been put into this institute... Do you imagine what would have happened to me, stranger? I would have probably killed myself, especially if Alphonse hadn't been around to visit me.

Of course, I've seen him everyday. He's even talking to me about things I've never before been told about. He'll speak often about his and Edward's adventures when they were travelling, tell me all about the things they encountered, the people they met, the challenges they had to overcome. And today, he cried.

It was when he was talking about Ed and Roy, going on about the time they had a huge duel and Hughes had narrated it all. He was speaking of his brother, and I could see him flinching, see him constantly turning his head away from me and blinking rapidly, just like Edward used to whenever he got upset.

His hands clenched onto his pants and he hid from me as tears fell from his face.

Just like Edward used to.

It was so strange, stranger, seeing young Alphonse look so much like his older brother that, I, too, started crying. And then it went so fast.

Once thing led to another. I hugged him, he held back. He kissed me. And I kissed back.

It was bizarre and wonderful, all at the same time. It was forbidden, and right. His lips were soft, tasting of something that makes me feel so nostalgic. Something that brings a pain to my heart and tears to my eyes, even though I know I'm unable of identifying it.

When Alphonse pulled away from me, it was odd. He looked at me for a moment – almost in disgust – stood up, shook his head, and left the room. He even slammed the door before the attendants could get in.

I think he was upset. Disappointed at himself, and me. How could we both do this? Edward was his _brother, _for Christ's sake. We betrayed the dead, betrayed someone so dearly important to us both.

So here I am now, in my therapy that I've been enrolled in since the twenty seventh day of Edward's death. Everyone's looking at me, now, waiting for me to talk. But I don't know if I can. I don't know if I can just start up somewhere and tell these strangers what they want to know, because I know that – if I just start anywhere – they won't understand. But if I start at the beginning, it'll take too long.

Yet I think of you. With you, I had started at no where. I had started at both the end, and the beginning. The line of infinity, where numbers seem to be misunderstood and words aren't words at all, but pictures in the form of sounds.

So I take a deep breath, sitting in my chair and staring at the small group of fifteen, looking around at them so intently, looking at them looking at me in the same way.

"Thirty four days ago," I start. From the beginning, now, I keep thinking. I've already told you. You already know, you already know. So why can't they? They're crazy too, we're all crazy! And all we'll ever be is crazy. Crazy in unity. Crazy for money, crazy for power, crazy in health and crazy in sickness.

Crazy in love.

Crazy in death.

All we'll ever be.

Crazy.

Do you get it?

"My husband, Edward, died in an accident. I was so broken and upset that I threw a tantrum at home and hurt myself rather badly. My husband's younger brother – Alphonse, who visits me everyday – admitted me here to protect me from myself. I think that, if he didn't I would be dead by now." I pause. Everyone's looking at me with their crazy eyes... With their crazy minds all judging me. Do they know? Do they understand?

Do you get it?

"Um... That's all." I lie. But I don't care. They don't need to know. They don't need to find out. I don't want to be judged, don't want to be stared at by them, these crazy people who are nothing like me, no.

The psychiatrist, with her beady eyes and that horrible clipboard stares at me for a moment before pushing square glasses up an angled nose bridge and sighing.

"So enlighten us, dear, as to why you had attacked a nurse a few weeks ago."

I don't want to talk suddenly. My throat is dried out when she looks at me so accusingly, like I did something _wrong._

She just doesn't understand.

"She said she'd take Edward and Alphonse away from me," I confess. She looks at me for a moment with those eyes and writes something down.

I want to grab it. To read what she wrote and beat her with that stiff piece of wood.

She turns to the next person and it continues on like that. In turn, they speak about why they're here, how they're getting better. They speak of their regrets, of their family.

A nurse comes in halfway through the third person begins speaking, asks to take me to see my visitor.

Alphonse.

The scary psychiatrist looks at me, then the nurse. She nods, but speaks before I leave.

"Oh, Mrs. Elric?" she says with this sinister tone in her voice. "I just want you to know..."

It's then that I really look at her. Really get a feel for that evil, crazy look in her eyes. In all their eyes, like they know something I don't. Something that makes them better than me. "What you believe is the truth to your admittance here is not the actual reason." She smirks and nods again. The nurse takes me by the arm and leads me out, but I'm still looking at the psychiatrist, watching her as I exit.

"Think about that," she adds as I'm out and the door is shutting.

I sit in bed that night, thinking about what she meant. Honestly, stranger, can you make any idea of that? The reason why I'm here is not the real reason. So what does that mean? Everything I've been told is a lie? Everything is not what it seems? Hell, maybe I'm down a rabbit hole and Alphonse is not really Alphonse, but the Mad Hatter screwing me over.

What's wrong with me? Is the psychiatrist a bitch? Is she trying to make me go crazy?

God, I just can't take this place anymore! The nurses are making me angry, the psychiatrists are making me crazy, and Alphonse seems to hate me now that things got out of control!

Jeez, I just... I just don't know anymore.

What's real? What's not?

Am I crazy or is everyone else?

I want to leave.

I want to leave here, leave Resembole, leave the Earth. I just want to die, to join Edward and cry into his body, to tell him how much I miss him and how sorry I am that I kissed Alphonse. I want to tell him everything, explain to him every little detail, every excruciating thought I had about slitting my wrists or jumping off buildings the day he died.

I want to go.

Kill me, stranger.

Just do it. March into this place and tear your hands down these white walls. Break me open with your knife and spread my blood across the floor. I don't care how you do it, just kill me. Just get it done with so I don't have to suffer with not knowing, with not being able to tell if I'm the crazy one, or if they are.

Do it. I won't even fight you.

Kill me.

Please, stranger.

Do you get it?

I just want you to kill me.


	6. six

Thirty four days here, thirty eight without him.

And now it's been four days since Alphonse hasn't been here.

Ever since that day we accidentally kissed, I haven't seen him.

I cried that first day he didn't come to visit me. I don't know why; my heart was being torn out. I guess it was because I thought I lost him, thought he would never come back.

I'm hoping he comes today. I'm hoping, so badly, that he'll walk into that waiting room and ask to see me, and I'll go with the nurse and meet him in the visiting lounge, and we'll talk like normal. He'll laugh, he'll smile, and so will I.

I hope so desperately, but the only nurse that comes for me is the one who takes me to my group psychiatry sessions.

I'm there, right now, listening as one of the crazy girls here goes on about her abusive boyfriend, the one who she says made her crazy, who made her stab him twice.

I'm scared of her, to be honest. She's got this look in her eyes, a look of insanity. I wonder, do I have that too? I remember, before, looking at myself... I can't remember what I said. I can't remember how I looked, I can't remember having a mirror in my room anymore.

I've been here too long. I'm losing myself, my identity.

Am I even Winry Elric anymore?

There's a knock at the door, but the psychiatrist doesn't jump like she usually does. Maybe she expected this knock, since she turned to me and smiled.

"Miss Elric, you have a visitor," she says to me. I can't say that I wasn't surprised; I was. But nevertheless, I stood and allowed the female nurse at the door to escort me to the visitor lounge.

Tears jump to my eyes as I see him there.

Alphonse, standing there with a horrible frown, with a rose in his hand, petals falling off it. He's wet, from head to toe – it must be raining. I don't care, though; as soon as I burst through the door, I go to him and hold him in my arms, wrap him in a warm hug.

"Alphonse, I was so worried for you!" I cry as I hold him, his hands shakily wrapping around me, too.

"Stop it," he says weakly. I pull away and look at him.

"What?" I ask. "Stop what?"

"This!" He's angry, suddenly. His hands fly into the air, the rose in his hand losing even more petals. Those angered eyes catch sight of one as it drifts past his face, and his expression softens drastically. Now he looks upset, so depressed and harrowed. Smoothly, his strong hands place the ruined flower on the table, his head and body shaking slightly. "Winry, I'm sorry, but I can't take this anymore. The psychiatrist, she says it's the best for you-"

I jump at him then, grab his hands. Is he trying to say he's leaving now? He'll never come back to visit me? Is he abandoning me, just like Edward? Tears rush to my eyes; without him, what'll I do?

"Don't listen to that bitch!" I cry out to him, feeling them falling down my cheeks. Just the thought of him leaving and never returning... God, just that thought breaks me. "Please, Alphonse, what happened was an accident and—"

"Stop it, Winry!" He tears his hands from me and takes a step back, hitting the white wall behind him. "It wasn't an accident, dammit! I love you, Winry, and I always have! You know that; why else would I make such a stupid promise to you? Laws don't matter, right? Hadn't I already established that with you, going through all those damn Alchemical rules? Breaking them all?" He's screaming, but I'm not understanding him.

What's he saying?

My head gets dizzy, his appearances beginning to blur. Those eyes are widening, turning gold, the hair lengthening and braiding itself. I know I'm crazy – this is only my imagination, for right now, he's so much like Edward. I know Alphonse is only mad at me. He can't stand being compared to Edward; I knew this was going to happen.

I have to tear my eyes from him and look at the floor, focus on my unmoving feet.

"Winry," he growls lowly. I ignore him, try to stay still. If I look up to him, if I acknowledge his wishes and move, I'll fall down and I don't know if I'll ever be able to get up.

My head pounds, now, my veins pushing so much blood through my being that I'm unsure of if I'll be able to withstand this pressure for much longer.

"Look at me, Winry," he growls again. When I deny him my gaze, he grabs my chin and forces it to stare at him. "Look at me."

I do. For the first time since I was admitted here, I _really _look at him.

Who is he? There's traces of so many people in him... Long blond hair of Edward with the strand at the top of his head, sticking up comically like always. There's his lean body, or is it Alphonse's? Yellow eyes...

"Who are you?" I hiss. This isn't Alphonse, and Edward is dead. Who is this stranger I've become so fond of in the past month? Suddenly, I feel so betrayed, so hurt and broken. Tears fall down faster as I begin to scream. "Who the Hell are you, you imposter?"

"I'm your husband," he answers in just as loud a scream, his fist clenched tightly. He tears at his skin and it comes off. I gasp and scream louder – what the Hell is going on?

Underneath is metal, and my eyes widen.

"Can't you feel or see the automail _you _created?" He grabs each side of my face with his hand. One is cold, the other – freakishly hot.

It can't be, I tell myself.

"You're dead."

He shakes his head, cringes and backs into the wall again, sliding down it and keeping his head between his kenes.

"You're crazy." He gives a small laugh and looks up to me, seriously, then grins slightly.

It's Edward.

It's him.

How?

"I always knew you were, though. Who goes around throwing wrenches at people? That's absurd and just cause for a lawsuit." He laughs, and I want to laugh, too, to hold him and ask him to wake me up from this horrible dream, but I can't.

Instead, the logical part of my mind still revels, still tells me that none of this is happening, that he's an imitator dead set on killing me, that everything was arranged for my death, that this institute is going along with it all.

"You're dead!" I scream again. "Edward's dead! My _husband _is dead!" I stand up, move backwards an knock over the chair accidentally. My body is squished against the wall, trying to hide away from him. "Who the Hell are you?"

"Edward Elric," he responds casually.

It's then that my knees give out and I fall to the ground.

Those two words. Those two little things that tear me apart from the heart.

"I never died, Winry. You just... You blocked things from your mind. Our..." Hearing his voice waver, I look to him. His face is away from mine, his hands tightly gripped onto his pants.

He's going to cry. It's the typical 'Emotional-Edward' crying sign that I had earlier dismissed as Alphonse's similarity to his brother.

Maybe... Maybe he's not lying.

"Our son, Edward Maes Elric, died, Winry. You... You were so devastated. Your mind... I don't know what happened. You locked yourself in the room the day of, broke things and screamed when the hospital phoned to say they confirmed his dead body in the truck."

He's crying now, tears falling from his eyes.

Edward.

My poor Edward.

But he's not Edward. He's still playing along with it. He still wants me dead.

Still. With those tears running down his cheeks, he doesn't seem so scary, after all.

So I slowly move across the space, slowly approach him. I'm careful about it, though, inching closer with only my arm held out to touch him.

"I... I left, since you kept saying your 'husband' was dead. I... God, I worried! I thought that, if you saw me, still alive, you'd think I was someone else and do something crazy!"

My hand lands on his metal hand, the coolness sinking into my own flesh.

Edward.

I launch myself at him, wrapping him in my arms.

I still don't understand what he's saying. I still don't understand, but stranger, you don't get it.

He needs me, and all this time I thought I needed him, he was alone. So help me God if I ignore that wish.

"Edward..." I sob into his shoulder. I feel his body tense under mine momentarily, then arms compress around my body and hold me tight.

He goes to talk, but I stop it, my lips on his.

It's right, this time. He's Edward, not Alphonse. We're not committing a sin, we're not horrible people. It was never horrible, never wrong.

Always right.

I pulled from his lips, hiding my tearful face in his chest as his own head buried itself in my hair.

I can't tell you how long we stayed like that, just holding one another and feeling the warm.

His body is cold, though, soaking and wet. Mine is now, too, but I can't care.

Edward.

Edward is alive. I was crazy.

"I thought I lost you," he whispers with a raw voice. "You never remembered. Thirty eight days..." He laughs, but it's more of a scoff than a sign of happiness. "I didn't even let Alphonse see you at all, scared you'd think Al was me or something, since I was Al." I feel him shake his head into my hair. "Didn't want to take any risks." He laughs again, and this time, it's real. "You even got Roy and Riza mixed up! I bugged him about it for a while, until I realized that was really how out of it you were..."

I go deeper into his chest. How gone had I been? Am I still crazy? Am I alright now?

"Can I... Can I come home now, Edward? Do you forgive me?"

He pushes me away a little, just enough to look me in the eye with that playful look on his face. That look I'd see constantly on those early morning conversations, held at two in the morning when neither of us could sleep.

"Well, you know, I made a promise. Given it was a stupid promise, but..." He smiles, comes closer to me. "I can't let you be alone."

…...

Hello, stranger.

It's been a total of forty nine days since I lost and found Edward, and finally, I get to go home. I understand what's happened now, I understand that I lost my mind.

Our son died in a car crash.

His day care was taking him back to us, when the van had been hit.

He died.

I got the phone call, I remember.

'Edward has been killed in a car accident.'

I think that's when my mind shut off. Maybe my son was never that important to me, maybe I was a horrible mother who cared more about my husband than my own flesh and blood. I honestly can't tell you what would have made me think that 'Edward' meant my husband instead of my child, first.

Edward doesn't even drive, for God's sake.

I went crazy, everyone avoided me.

Alphonse was almost unable to go to my son's wedding, given that Edward was so scared. I was told, later by a joking Al, that he had to dress up as a stranger and stay far in the back.

Edward was the one I was comforting that day, who was hugging me so tightly that I thought I was going to die.

Roy seemed upset to see me, and the first thing he said to me was, 'Do I look like Riza?'

I only laughed at him.

I... I want to thank you, though, stranger. You stuck with me throughout all this.

Such a good friend, you are. Throughout all the horrible, crazy moments, you stayed here.

It's amazing, isn't it, the way happy endings can just appear out of anywhere...?

Given that it wasn't a completely happy ending, since Edward did have the balls to bring up the fact that I had, allegedly, kissed Alphonse in my mind.

That had not been a good conversation, my friend.

Nevertheless, I owe you my life. You kept what little of my sanity I had, allowing me to talk to you like you did.

So thank you, stranger.

I will never forget your kindness.


End file.
